


It wasn't serious

by Telute



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telute/pseuds/Telute
Summary: In which Greg finds everyone but him disagrees with his description of his previous relationship.
Relationships: Anthea/Molly Hooper, Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	It wasn't serious

'What are you going as?’

Greg looked up from the overtime slips that he seemed to have been signing for the last three hours. Sally was leaning against his office door, a black bordered invitation in her hand.

‘Going as?’

‘St Barts?’ Sally came over to the desk and held the invitation up in front of him. ‘You know? I just want to make sure we’re not going to accidentally match outfits or something.’

‘I didn’t think they were doing that this year.’ Hell, he’d even asked Molly a week or so ago when he’d been there for a report. She’d shrugged and muttered something about costs. ‘Molly…’

Sally snorted. ‘Told you not to ditch him.’

Greg leaned back on his chair, trying to think if there was anything else he’d done that might have caused Molly to take him off the guestlist. ‘I didn’t ditch him.’ And he hadn’t. Not really. It had just been one of those things where both parties realise that they don’t want the same thing.

‘You ditched him.’ Sally perched herself on the edge of the desk. ‘I mean you might have done it by sleeping with someone else and claiming you didn’t think it was anything serious but it was still a dumping.’

‘You didn’t even like him.’ Greg resisted the urge to push her off the desk. ‘You said I shouldn’t be fucking around with a Holmes.’

‘Fucking around.’ Sally dragged the words out and stood up. ‘Fucking around was I meant. You don’t decide to sleep with him and not expect for it to get serious. And…’

‘Get out.’ Greg waved the overtime slips at her. He didn’t need her to finish the sentence, the look on her face of pitying sympathy hadn’t been for him after all. 

***

He’d thought of texting Molly about his missing invitation to the St Bart’s Halloween bash. But he suspected she’d ignore him, or just reply after the event with a quick ‘sorry I missed this.’ So he’d decided to brave the beast in her lair – albeit with a peace offering of cupcakes.

Molly was finishing typing up a report when he finally tracked her down in the basement of St Bart’s. She gave him a quick smile in greeting. ‘Hi Greg.’

‘Hi.’ He handed the cupcakes over and she took them with a slight sigh. ‘Did Sally give me away?’

‘She might have done.’ Molly put the cupcakes down and picked up a black envelope from beside her keyboard. ‘Also Thea said he’d asked if you were coming and told her not to be mean when she said you weren’t.’

‘It didn’t end badly.’ He could see Molly looked less than convinced. ‘I mean, we’re still civil to each other. We just didn’t want the same thing.’

Molly handed over the invitation. ‘There’s no plus one, and if you spend the evening flirting with everyone I’ll have you thrown out.’

‘You gonna have Mycroft thrown out if he tries to pick someone up?’ Which was a stupid thing to say. Mycroft wasn’t a flirt unless he was fairly drunk and very sure of his welcome. Molly glared at him and for a moment Greg thought she might take the invitation back. 

‘Get out.’

Greg fled.

***

‘So.’ Sally slid down into the seat next to him. ‘What I really want to know is what exactly was so terrifying about waking up to that …’ She waved a half drunk bottle of beer towards the dance floor where Molly and Mycroft were dancing something that was not quite a tango but also not exactly not a tango ‘…every morning. I mean I’m pretty sure I can see the appeal and I don’t like posh Oxbridge types.’

‘You know we split up six months ago.’ Greg took a deep drink of his pint. ‘And I’m your boss.’

‘Come on.’ Sally nudged him hard with her elbow. ‘It can’t just have been that you were gun shy after the witch. You were sleeping with him for a year before you freaked out.’

Greg watches as Thea takes Molly’s hand and draws her away from Mycroft, who gives a mock bow before glancing around and heading towards the bar. He’s dressed as the Scarlet Pimpernel, and Greg hates that he knows that the costume is from the Richard E Grant BBC version that they watched over the course of a rainy weekend. Somewhere on his phone he still has the notepad doc that they used to rate the dress sense of the various members of the League.

‘Greg?’ Sally gave him a gentler nudge. ‘You okay?’

‘Sherlock.’ 

‘What?’

‘Sherlock’s why I did it.’ He takes another gulp of beer. He hasn’t dared to even think about that rather drunk evening with Sherlock and John since he and Mycroft split. But suddenly he wants to talk about it, wants Sally to understand that he wasn’t being a total jerk. ‘He said it wouldn’t last, that he’d get bored, that it was a good thing I wasn’t planning a wedding.’

‘And you believed him?’ Sally slumps a little in her seat, stretching her legs out in front of her. ‘Seriously?’

‘I just…’ He can still remember how it felt to hear all the things he’d been worried about just listed by Sherlock like they were facts. He’d said when him and Mycroft first got together that he didn’t want anything serious and Mycroft had just nodded like he was telling him where the taxi rank was. Then it had somehow progressed from dinner and sex to weekends and tele and cuddling on the sofa. He’d been scared it wouldn’t last.

‘He adored you.’ Sally said quietly. ‘If you ask Molly she’ll say he still does.’

‘Don’t.’ Greg can’t take the idea at the moment. He’d not even tried to talk to Mycroft about his worries he’d just picked up some woman in a bar and fucked her brains out. A grand declaration of ‘I don’t care about you so you can’t hurt me.’ He can’t take any of this. He downs his pint and gets up, marching as quickly as he can towards the fire exit in search of fresh air and a smoke.

***

The air outside is freezing, but makes him feel a little better. The first drag on a cigarette also helps calm him down. He doesn’t hear the fire exit open, but the soft voice calling his name behind him is unmistakable. He turns slowly. Mycroft is standing in the open doorway. He looks uncertain, like he’s surprised to find himself face to face with Greg although there’s no other reason for him to be out here.

‘Hi.’ Greg waves a hand at him, ‘Great costume.’

‘Oh.’ Mycroft looks down and then back to Greg. ‘I prefer historical costume if I have to dress up.’

‘Suits you.’ It really does. The long coat and tight breeches all just serve to emphasise how tall and trim Mycroft is. Greg tries not to remember what it felt like to press him up against a wall and kiss him senseless.

'You seemed upset.' Mycroft says. ‘I hope … I mean I’m sure you’re fine but I just wanted to check I know Molly’s been …’ He trails off and Greg can see a slight frown forming on his face as he tries to work out what he wants to say.

‘Molly’s been pissed at me.’ That cause Mycroft to smile slightly and then the worried frown returns. 

‘I didn’t tell her anything about what happened. I promise.’

‘I told Sally.’ Greg shrugs. ‘She probably told her – and honestly I deserve it. I shouldn’t have done that to you.’

‘We’d agreed it wasn’t a serious thing.’ Mycroft shrugged this time. ‘It was entirely my fault for assuming.’

‘Come here.’ Greg tosses his cigarette to the ground and stamps on it. He daren’t look to see if Mycroft obeys so it’s something of a shock when the tips of Mycroft’s impeccably shined boots appear in his field of vision. He looks up at Mycroft seeing the uncertainty and distress that’s filling his grey eyes. I did that, he thinks, and it’s suddenly too much to resist leaning up and gently kissing Mycroft. 

Mycroft returns the kiss, but the confusion in his expression only deepens. He opens his mouth to say something and Greg reaches up and places a finger on his lips.

‘Just, shush a minute okay. Look. I fucked up, I know I did. I listened to your idiot brother and I should’ve talked to you and should’ve just trusted you. But if it’s alright with you I’d really like a second chance.’

He lifts his finger, his heart hammering his ribs. Mycroft doesn’t reply immediately, instead he slips his arms around Greg and then tilts his head to one side and then the other, considering.

‘I can’t do casual.’ He finally replies. ‘I’m sorry. It was never causal for me and I can’t…’

Greg kisses him again. ‘I don’t do casual anymore either.’


End file.
